


...the weapon

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tattoos are one of the ways they measure out the time between getting ghosted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...the weapon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsforscience](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsforscience/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Art is...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/545730) by [itsforscience](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsforscience/pseuds/itsforscience). 



> A companion piece to a lovely bit of art that [](http://josie.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://josie.dreamwidth.org/)**josie** drew. Check out the art first, because it is awesome.
> 
> Quick look over by Ande, as always.

The buzz is loud, and Poison feels the rough vibration before the needles bite into his skin.

"Fuck," he hisses, because the patch of skin Ghoul is working on is so sensitive and the needles are sharp.

It's one of the ways they measure out the time between getting ghosted, waking up pale and unmarked in the White Rooms of Battery City.

Ghoul squeezes his upper arm firmly and Poison tries to ride the swell of _icyhotstinging_. He tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes, relaxing back into the sensations, letting them wash over him.

It hurts, but the soft sweep of Ghoul's thumb against his skin sends a sweet counterpoint trilling across his nerves.

Ghoul complains sometimes about how often Poison gets ghosted, never giving Ghoul a chance to finish up some of the large pieces he's had planned for _years_. 

Poison just shrugs. Tattoos are never meant to be permanent, anyway, out here in the Dust. 

"Thinking about redoing your wings," Ghoul murmurs, turning the tattoo machine off and changing out the ink.

Ghoul had spent weeks working on that tattoo, which had stretched from Poison's shoulders to the small of his back, curling toward his spine. The feathers had been imperfect, some broken, bloodied, bent. "Tarnished angel," Ghoul had whispered, tracing the feathers with his mouth after Poison had healed.

"I'd like that," Poison says quietly. 

A corner of Ghoul's mouth quirks upward and he turns the machine back on, intent on the next letter, straight lines and rounded curves. 

-fin-


End file.
